


Cap in Hand

by tolarian



Series: Trefoil [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: A Wizard Did It, Angst and Humor, Biting, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Established Relationship, Flirting, Kissing, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Size Difference, Thundershield - Freeform, tiny!Steve and Thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolarian/pseuds/tolarian
Summary: The team rolled into the debriefing room, mostly unharmed (except for Clint’s sprained wrist) and mostly unchanged from how they had left the tower that morning. With one significant exception.“So, Rogers can't ride the rides on Coney Island for a few days,” Tony said, sitting down at the table. “I think we should take this opportunity to play catch with him. As the ball, obviously.”Natasha rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. She leaned against the wall rather than taking a chair. Thor, Bruce, and Clint each settled in their seats with increasing degrees of care. Thor was unusually quiet as he observed Steve.“Or have him sit on Babe the Blond Ox’s lap, tell jokes while he drinks a glass of water?” Tony added, gesturing at Thor, “C’mon, tell me you wouldn’t love having Rogers on your knee like this. You can’t, can you?”Steve sighed, taking his usual chair and noticing glumly that his feet did not touch the floor.





	Cap in Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Matter of Timing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601127) by [Rhiw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw). 
  * Inspired by [Nothing Like Thrymskvida](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342234) by [Arya_Greenleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf). 
  * Inspired by [the sun did not yet know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799472) by [asocialconstruct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct). 



> This features mild sexual content and takes place after the events of The Avengers, prior to Iron Man 3, with the canon divergence that Thor has returned to the Avengers, likes to make out with Steve, and has participated in a number of cartoon and comic-style team missions. The events can be considered a divergence from canon and the story draws mostly from the MCU, very slightly from the comics (largely from Kate Leth’s wonderful Patsy Walker, aka Hellcat) and liberally from Norse mythology (for example, the Baldr that Thor refers to here is Baldr from the Norse Edda, not Balder from the Marvel comics). The team has had time to gel in their slightly cartoony universe and Thor and Steve are in an established relationship, so call that a nod to ambiguous Avengers fandom. 
> 
> This can be read as a prequel to Trefoil, but each story can be read separately.
> 
> Inspirations: Thor wanting to feed Steve Idun’s apples and the liberal mixing of Marvel canon with Norse mythology are ideas cheerfully stolen from Rhiw’s excellent A Matter of Timing. (If you like Thundershield and A/B/O dynamics, go read that right now, then come back here.) The potential implications of Steve’s longevity are inspired by the lovely Nothing Like Thrymskvida by Arya_Greenleaf, which you should also read. Kudos to asocialconstruct's amazing the sun did not yet know for showing me the delightful possibilities of skinny!Steve and Thor. Go read that one and if you are still hankering for a light Thundershield fic in which Thor has feelings and Steve is Not Good at using his words, come back here.
> 
> Unbeta’d – all errors are my own. Thanks for reading! Specific content notes at the end. Please consider leaving comments or kudos: they really inspire me.

 

The team rolled into the debriefing room, mostly unharmed (except for Clint’s sprained wrist) and mostly unchanged from how they had left the tower that morning. With one significant exception. 

“So, Rogers can't ride the rides on Coney Island for a few days,” Tony said, sitting down at the table. “I think we should take this opportunity to play catch with him. As the ball, obviously.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. She leaned against the wall rather than taking a chair. Thor, Bruce, and Clint each settled in their seats with increasing degrees of care. Thor was unusually quiet as he observed Steve. 

“Or have him sit on Babe the Blond Ox’s lap, tell jokes while he drinks a glass of water?” Tony added, gesturing at Thor, “C’mon, tell me you wouldn’t love having Rogers on your knee like this. You can’t, can you?” 

Steve sighed, taking his usual chair and noticing glumly that his feet did not touch the floor.  

“So, debrief,” he said. At least his voice sounded mostly the same. “Thanks to Hellcat, we’ve got Casiolena-” 

“NOT Enchantress,” Clint interjected sternly. That error had earned him the attention of an indignant Asgardian sorceress and, by extension, the sprained wrist. 

“Also, strangely not an Asgardian keyboard,” Tony added, still grinning at Steve. 

“Yes, Casiolena - in magical bonds in a containment unit until Sif gets here to escort her back to Asgard for trial, so no problems there. Thor’s keeping the – what was it called again, Thor?” 

“The eye of Frigga,” Thor said, holding up the jeweled artifact. “It is a strange misnomer. My mother’s eyes are not this color.” His voice softened as Steve waited for him to finish reporting. “Name aside, it will effect no-one else while it is in my possession.” 

“Thor’s keeping the incorrectly named magical doohickey on his person until Sif gets here to take it as well.” Steve made a note. At least the pen didn’t feel cartoonishly over-sized in his hand, which was a blessing. His attention returned to Thor but he didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re sure she won’t need your help with the escort? I’d prefer that you were here while I’m…incapacitated, but safely transferring the prisoner outweighs that.” 

Thor shook his head firmly. “The Warriors Three will accompany her. No additional concern is merited.” He did not add that short of Jörmungandr itself releasing its coils from the earth, he would not have left Steven at this time. 

“Is doohickey the technical term, Fantastic Voyage?” 

Steve ignored Tony. “Great. Let’s review our successes and what we can work on next time,” Steve said. He tried not to sigh. “JARVIS, run the footage?” 

“Ooh, I didn’t see you get blasted at the time,” Tony interrupted. “JARVIS, I want something by Vangelis when whatshername starts slinging spells, and can you add in the theme from _Cats_ when Hellcat turns up – unimaginative, I know, but too good to ignore, her moves are very Broadway, did anyone see that? - and then the theme from _Honey, I Shrunk The Kids_ when Cap gets downsized? Also, google what Rick Moranis has been up to lately and tell me after the meeting.” 

“Very good, sir.” JARVIS replied. 

Steve considered replying that he was familiar with Broadway but decided against it. 

“Roll film, JARVIS,” he said. 

“That’s adorable,” Tony burbled. 

 

* * *

 

" _Oh my god_ ,” Tony said,  suddenly transfixed, as the meeting prepared to break up. “JARVIS, source me an authentic Boyscout uniform and have it here within, what, eighteen hours?  I don’t care how, because someone has definitely earned their Avenging merit badge. Also fabricate an Avenging badge. And, uh, Lifesaving, Emergency Preparedness. Physical Fitness, obviously. Really just go through the list and whichever ones seem appropriate, get them on a sash for me.” 

“I will endeavor, sir.” 

Steve got up from the table, organizing his notes. “Tony, you know I don’t like how they’re still excluding people from membership.” 

“What are you, a boys’ size eleven?” 

“Historically speaking, Steve Rogers was a bit over five feet tall before the serum,” Natasha said, inspecting her nails. “This one doesn’t hit five feet. No offense, Rogers, but the Asgardian artifact tells us that apparently, you see yourself as an American boys’ size twelve.” 

“You heard the woman, JARVIS. Size twelve.”  

Steve tried not to grind his teeth together. He regretted that he liked to be the last to leave the room. The others, primarily Tony and Clint, always left a mess on the conference table.  

“I could really go for some popcorn,” Clint said, yawning. “Thor? Butter buddies?” 

“I’d have a little,” Tony said. “A small amount. Just a _tiny_ bit.” 

Thor flipped Mjolnir by the handle, looking from Tony to Steven. There was a standing agreement that Thor would not attempt to defend Steven when he was being heckled by their team-mates. Steven insisted that he could fight his own battles and moreover that he must, given his status on the team. Thor agreed in theory, but the practice often involved the Man of Iron doing a fair impression of a gadfly. Steven indulged him too much, off the field.  

“A wee handful of kernels.” 

“Popcorn sounds just great, Clint,” Steve said, gathering the folded paper triangles Clint had been flicking at his team-mates with characteristic accuracy. 

“My appetite’s dwindled to nothing. It’s like my stomach shrunk.” 

“Tony,” Bruce said, pushing back his chair.  

“Careful, Shrek, Cap’s a hobbit now. He’ll want your pipeweed.” 

“You’re leaning heavily towards film references today,” Natasha observed as she left the room. 

“Yeah, I’ll make some popcorn,” Clint said, following her. 

 

* * *

 

Thor was violating the agreement. Natasha had called Steve cute and Thor had begun an impromptu lecture on Steve’s attractiveness. This wasn’t the first one the team had endured, but where the last one had been passionate, this one was disarmingly thoughtful. Thor appeared to be working something out for himself. 

“Steven’s presence in battle is always a boon. His beauty, likewise. It is deeply stirring,” he explained as Clint carefully kept his face neutral. “And yet this change alters that beauty – not lessened but refined. Made…” 

“Delicate?” Steve supplied. At least the popcorn was good – even if it did come in a bag – and if he cracked a tooth it would be fixed by the following morning. He was sitting in an easy chair, instead of his usual Thor-adjacent spot on the biggest couch. 

“Heartrendingly cute?” Tony asked from the kitchen. 

“Intricate. Like the difference between hammered gold and carefully cut diamonds. No less worthy. Merely a difference in the scale of the detail.” 

“They clearly don't use a gold standard in Asgard,” Steve said dryly. 

“The city is made of it,” Natasha said. “Apparently.” 

Clint sprinkled more paprika on the bowl of popcorn he and Natasha were sharing on their loveseat. 

“You are yourself,” Thor boomed, suddenly. “But I admit that your beauty is of a different kind for a while.” 

“He’s not wrong,” Bruce said, coming in from the balcony and smelling slightly of pipeweed. “Can someone put in another bag in the microwave?” 

“The Abominable Thor basically wants to love you and squeeze you and call you Steve,” Tony chirped. “Even more so than usual, I mean. Which, frankly, sounds dangerous, given that you have the skeleton of a songbird.” 

Thor and Steven traded confused looks. Thor mouthed the word, ‘Abominable?’ It was a grave insult, but that was hardly unusual when the Man of Iron’s mood was so fey. 

“It’s from a cartoon,” Tony said. “Actually, half-Cap, you’ll love it. JARVIS, some _Looney Tunes_ , if you will?” 

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, the team had dispersed. Steve was still in the common area: he wasn’t feeling social, but he’d be damned before he hid like this. After migrating to his usual spot on the couch, he had turned on a nature documentary. He imagined the soft-voiced, British narrator describing the Steve Rogers in his natural state – scrawny and misshapen, watching for predators. 

He didn’t hear Tony come in, but he turned down the volume when it became clear – as it always somehow did – that Tony wouldn’t stop talking. 

Steve shook his head and pointed to the good ear, his left. Apparently, his magically actualized self-image still included the partial deafness, if not the color-blindness. Tony’s chatter made him wish he had both ears down for the day. Maybe longer. 

Tony sat down beside him. “Hey, Vizzini - where’s Fezzik?” 

Steve shrugged. He had really enjoyed _The Princess Bride_ during movie night, but he did not appreciate the opportunity to get a reference. Earlier Thor had danced attendance on him for about an hour and then left without a word. Whether he had stayed or remained, Steve’s bony shoulders would have itched when reminded of Thor’s most recent well-intentioned pontification on Steve’s being a remarkable example of Midgardian beauty at any size.  

“I mean, normally, no offense-” a sure sign that Tony was about to say something appalling, “-it’s big, dumb, and blond. And bigger, dumber, blonder.” Tony leaned forward to squint at Steve. “You know, General Tom Thumb, you’re pretty cute like this,” he said. “I mean, you were pretty this morning, but it’s hard to see past all the…” He grunted and flexed. “Grr. All that.” 

Steve watched penguins diving from what seemed to be an incredibly high rock into the sea far below. “Tony-” 

“You're _really_ skinny. It's very heroin chic. There’s not much meat on her, but what there is, is ‘cherce’. You know, you just missed that reference by a few years? Wait, was Katherine Hepburn part of your pop culture milieu?”  

“ _Woman of the Year_ ,” Steve said, wishing he could trade places with the penguins. Or the fish they were feeding to their young. At least then he’d be serving some use other than entertaining Tony, who had populated a whole tower with toys and people to play with. 

Tony put a hand on Steve’s slim shoulder, “If Robert Wadlow doesn’t have your dance card already full tonight, you come see me in the lab. We can, I don’t know, run some tests on what Asgardian magic has revealed as your deepest inner self. I have to say, you look very flexible with less muscle mass in the way. Do you want to make out?” He squeezed Steve’s upper arm through the thin t-shirt. “I mean, of course, you want to make out with me. But we could do it, like, right now. Pepper would understand. Is this why my jerkass Pops was so into you? He saw you before the serum and got twink fever?” 

“Tony, no,” Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Friend Anthony,” Thor said loudly, coming in. Steve hadn’t heard the door. There was a pause and Thor walked over, looking disapprovingly at Tony’s grip on Steve’s shoulder. His hand strayed toward Mjolnir. “You will not molest your comrade.” 

_Two males face off_ _across_ _the tundra_ , Steve imagined the narrator saying. Did penguins fight for mates? Maybe they just squabbled over fish. 

“Well, it wouldn’t literally be—I mean, he looks young, but he’s what, eighteen, right now? You really think of yourself as eighteen? That’s just sad.  You can’t even drink and it would actually do something for you like this, Fievel Mousekewitz.” Tony broke off, looking at the clouds – metaphorically – rising around Thor’s face. He let Steve go and marched to the door. “Fine, fine. You want to keep fun-size Rogers all to your self? Fine. Be my guest. I do own your apartment.”  He paused before the door. “Yeah, keep that molestation rule in mind, Sparky.” He pointed at Thor accusingly, then left. 

_Cowed, the smaller male retreats into the night,_ Steve thought. 

“This must feel strange to you,” Thor said, settling on the couch. He took up so much more of the seat than Tony but he did so while giving Steve a far larger amount of personal space. He had changed out of his armor and was wearing very large flannel pajamas. His hair was pulled up in a tail. He looked perfect. He always looked perfect.  

“Well, it does and it doesn’t,” Steve said, and seeing the expression on Thor’s face, tried to rephrase. He paused the documentary and the nesting penguins froze, more than they had already. “I mean, I was little for a lot longer than I was big. People push you around when you’re little. And I think Tony might have been trying to make me feel better, in his own deeply inappropriate way.” 

“You were routinely subjected to unwanted attentions prior to the serum?” 

“Not as much as after,” Steve said. He grimaced. “Well, it happened before, but Bucky was always-” Steve tried to figure out how to phrase it. Thor was well-aware of his history with the man he insisted on calling Steven’s first shield-brother. “It never went too far. I had a bite like a weasel. Still do. Don’t worry about it.” 

“A weasel,” Thor said. His tone was arch. “We have them not in Asgard. I suspect they are small but fierce? They wield shields?” 

“I’m not sure we had them in Brooklyn, either. But yes, apparently they bite like a Steve Rogers.” 

“Fierce creatures indeed,” Thor teased. He took in Steve, admiration radiating off of him. Steve ducked his head. 

 “You’re sure it’s temporary?” he asked his knees.  

Thor nodded. “Frigga’s Eye is a teaching tool. It shows how we see ourselves, only for a day.” Thor looked at Steve, eyes thoughtful. “The contrast upon being released from its power is intended to teach humility in the prideful or stoke self-regard in those who consistently undervalue themselves.” He emphasized the last few words and Steve did not roll his eyes. 

“Well, my therapist would be just fascinated to know that I still see myself as…this.” Steve said, trying and failing to keep his voice from being heavy. “Nah, she probably could have guessed. Anyway, it’s nice I can still tell the difference between red and green. I look just like I did and my hearing’s still bad, though. And my back. And my asthma.” He sighed. “It’s not so bad. I dealt with worse than this for twenty years. Well, except for Tony. Just a day, you said?” 

“Just a day,” Thor echoed. “A significant portion of which has passed already. You could sleep through the rest.” 

“Not if my breathing’s like it was. I may as well stay awake. Maybe take advantage of the size difference and go ice-skating-” Steve said. He looked at Thor, who was suddenly hunched like the penguins were in the storm paused onscreen. “What is it?” 

The god reddened. He was a remarkable expanse for a blush to cover and it took some time. “I….” He paused, before seeming to choose his words carefully. “I must admit your temporary change stirs...conflicting emotions within me.” 

“Oh?” Steve said. A smile twisted his lips for the first time since watching Tony’s indignant exit. “Go on.” 

Thor coughed. Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that outside of the shower of concrete dust that usually heralded Thor being thrown through a building.  

“Your usual form is very comely, as I said. This one is as well.” 

“And you’re conflicted because…?” 

“Our typical joining is…robust. I would be gentle with you, like this. And yet your change in size would also be advantageous for...more energetic coupling in a different way. You are _very_ small.” Thor drew himself up, all royal Asgardian dignity. “However, I am not Stark or those of your past and I will not push my attentions on you.” He added quickly, “I prefer your bites to be celebratory rather than defensive.” 

There was a silence. Thor looked increasingly guilty. 

“Tony was right,” Steve said, “You really do wanna love me and squeeze me.” Steve giggled – a short, sharp sound with much less space to reverberate in, tonight. “Thor. It’s fine. Really.” 

He inclined his head, looking up at Thor.  He batted his lashes experimentally as if to see how it might add to his persuasiveness. Bucky had always said he had lashes all the way down the street. They went nearly as far as his nose.

“Any more detail to that plan?” Steve tried to think what else might stir an Asgardian prince apparently atwitter about his size. He licked his lips. “You know, I believe in good planning.” 

Thor’s laugh boomed as he threw Steve over his shoulder and hurried for the hallway. 

Steven was as light as Mjolnir and just as pleasing in the hand. 

 

* * *

 

 

Thor deposited Steven in the bed – the only properly sized one in the Tower, as far as he was concerned. It had been a merry romp down the stairwells, too pleasing to wait for the elevator. Besides, Steven made the most amusing noises when Thor jostled him lightly. 

“Hey, watch the merchandise,” Steven said, rubbing his hip. His hipbone jutted invitingly above his sweatpants.  He was composed of delightfully hard angles: lean muscle, prominent joints.

“You are for sale?” Thor said, putting Mjolnir down, but he couldn’t hold the false confusion for long. Steven knew that game and played it far more frequently with their team-mates than any of them knew, save the dangerously perceptive Widow. He vaulted onto the bed, grinning as Steven bounced. “How may I acquire you?” 

“I think dinner’s the going rate.” 

 “You are being sold very cheaply.” 

Steven shrugged, arranging himself to best effect on the bed: his throat was bared but there was rebellion in his eyes. “If you’re not sure you’re interested, I’ve got at least one other potential buyer upstairs.” 

Thor narrowed his eyes. “That will not be necessary,” he said darkly and snatched up his lover. He delighted in squeezing the slim form Steven took tonight. “My account will be settled later. You are in my possession and my bed, and other concerns can wait until I have made use of them.” 

“Bossy,” Steven said, smirking as he twined his arms around Thor’s neck, twisted clever fingers into his hair. 

“I will be the soul of obedience when next we face the enemy,” Thor promised. He kissed Steven forcefully, but with care: enough to bruise but not break. The necessity of measuring his grip on Steven was novel, where it had been a burden with Jane. Perhaps the difference was the promise that come morning, Steven would be returned to his proper strength and size.  

It was a complicated feeling, one that he might discuss with Jane when next they spoke. Jane had been very supportive of his relationship with Steven after their own romance had foundered. She had answered many questions about Midgardian courting in the era in which Steven had been raised and her willingness to do so was a great kindness. It was a fond hope of his that the two would become friends: they were both as stubborn as boars and very loving.   

“I can hear you thinking,” Steven murmured into his mouth and, taking care not to pull his scalp, tugged Thor’s hair entirely free of its band. He slipped the cord around his wrist like a spoil of war. 

“I was thinking of how I hope you and Jane will grow closer in time,” Thor responded.  

Uncertainty crossed Steven’s fine features, even as he leaned into Thor’s chest. “I know you want that.” He opened his mouth, but no more words were forthcoming. It was a marked contrast from his efficient orders on the battlefield. 

“Your own thoughts grow very loud,” Thor observed. He stripped Steven of his shirt and rest of the SHIELD-branded clothing he had acquired from the Quinjet after the mission. He settled back against the headboard, making a show of looking over his pleasant armful.  

Steven did look delicately designed, in an immovable kind of way. A masculinity pared down to its essence, its edges. His bones were prominent under his pale skin and Thor could happily have traced the blue paths of his veins to the soft pulse in the vulnerable throat. He resolved to do so immediately. He brought a slim wrist to his lips and gave it a small lick as he cradled the slight back under his other hand.  

Steven shuddered and hid his face against Thor’s beard, leaving the arm entirely undefended. A rare tactical error. Thor pursued the advantage, biting the wrist gently, before redirecting his attentions to the inner bend of Steven's elbow, then his upper arm. He held his lover in place by the hips and eased his teeth up Steven’s shoulder. He held off, poised to cause his lover pain, teasing him with the warmth of his breath, the scratch of his beard. 

A small whimper. Thor grinned, biting down on Steven’s neck. He sucked on the pale skin caught between his teeth. It was the first mark of many: he had spent much of the meeting after the battle composing a detailed plan to decorate Steven’s skin while it would hold the ornamentation better. He began on the second mark: it was a smaller bite of skin and it would paint a deeper shade.  

Purple was a lordly color and it well became Steven. 

“Oh fuck,” Steven whispered. 

His lover had strong ideas about propriety and held to them with conviction. While Thor was unmoved by the profanity of others – Clinton in particular often peppered their communications with complex but otherwise unaffecting oaths – Steven held himself to different standards. He preferred not to utter oaths in public and did so in private only due to frustration or desire he could not otherwise control. Thor took singular pleasure in making him curse. 

 Still, Steven rallied, making use of the slimness of his form to squirm distractingly in Thor’s arms, under his teeth. He flirted wickedly behind a veneer of innocence, all wide eyes and soft lips as he leaned back. He briefly exposed a throat half-decorated, advertising bare canvas. Steven even managed to look surprised as he rolled his hips in Thor’s lap, as if he wasn’t expecting to feel his lover hard beneath him. As if it was only an accident that Steven made small, helpless sounds against Thor’s ear, even as he shamelessly rubbed against him. 

The man was a trial at any size. Thor knew Steven was trying to rile him, testing the limits of his control. His beloved was shrewd and, as usual, thought himself invincible. It remained to be seen whether the Eye had granted him that. Thor promised himself that once Steven was fully restored, he would punish him unstintingly. 

Until then, the best combination of pleasure and revenge was to lean forward, easily lifting Steven in his hands so he could take him in his mouth. Thor felt him shudder on his tongue and set to teasing him with touches that were deep and slow. He would complete the necklace later. The hollow of Steven's hip cried out for decoration as well. But it would wait. 

Steven stifled his curses by biting his own hand, leaving indentations in the webbing between thumb and forefinger.

He whimpered and said, “Please,” perhaps the one word Thor enjoyed hearing him say more than any obscenity. For all that much of his public innocence was feigned, and his private wickedness was maddening, at the core of him there was something else. It was a purity that was hinted at in Steven’s goodness, his stubborn insistence on balancing justice and mercy. 

It was a purity that was on full display now, as his beloved begged. 

 

* * *

 

 

“It will be interesting to see you older come morning,” Thor said later after petty and delightful revenges had been traded back and forth. Steve reached out a skinny arm. He couldn’t reach the edge of the bed, nestled against Thor’s side as he was. Normally they took up so much space together, even in Thor’s massive bed. “Time does not touch you the way it does the other mortals. It moves them like weeds in water, but not you.” 

Steve reviewed what he had just heard, touching the torc of bruises on his neck. “Not at all?” He sat up to look at Thor, his short blond hair stuck up in tufts, skinny legs folded on the bed. He was thoroughly pink from the burn of Thor’s beard: no skin that was currently visible was untouched by it. 

“Perhaps it does, but not at a pace that compares to theirs.” Thor watched the thin face, adored whatever its exact dimensions. “This upsets you.” 

“I’d wondered,” Steve said quietly. He sighed and the expression on his face could charitably be called a smile. “It’s not just going to be Peggy I’ll see get old, I suppose.” He considered this. It could be a very long tour as Captain America. 

Thor reached out to squeeze Steven’s shoulder. His hand dwarfed the thin arm, pale in contrast to his own skin. Normally, Steven was his junior in size and strength in a way that left him still formidable. Even now, the thin, angled frame housed a will that had not needed any intervention to be unequaled in Midgard.  

“You could come to Asgard,” he suggested, keeping his voice artificially light. The prevarication did not become him, but it was a necessary evil. “Your lifespan would not cause you the same pain there. There, you would be...Well. Hardly common, but the rhythm of your life would pass without comment.”  Thor swallowed and found the words tumbling out, heavier by the second. Like a hammer in an unworthy hand. “You, on the other hand, would be celebrated. Beautiful, brave, a new son of the house of Odin like Baldr come again. You could join me in challenging enemies in seasons of battle, return to our home to eat Idun’s apples in times of peace.” 

Steve looked down at rumpled sheets and furs, pink to the tips of his ears. His gaze darted up and his smile was a sunrise, but he looked down again. Thor waited.  

Steve cleared his throat and looked up. “You just compared me to one of your brothers,” he said, suddenly perplexed. “And we’re naked.” 

Thor smiled indulgently. “Baldr is still the name of beauty in Asgard, even if he is lost to us. And your beauty is what my people would notice before all else.” Thor traced the edge of Steve’s jaw: a broad callus drawing a fine line. “We are a lustful, superficial people,” he rumbled into Steve’s neck, gently kissing the bruises there. “In addition to our many other flaws.” 

“I had noticed,” Steve said dryly. “But please don’t say I’m as attractive as your brother. I’m pretty sure that’s still weird in Midgard, even these days.” 

Thor stiffened, ever so slightly, even as his tone remained teasing. “You would prefer being compared to the invader?” 

Steve spoke very quietly. “I know he’s more than that to you.” He didn’t understand, exactly, but he knew the way you could know the reputation of a city that you might never visit. 

“And think of how much more you would learn about me and my complex, storied lineage if you came to stay in Asgard” Thor said, though he did not exactly relax. He ran broad hands from Steve’s shoulders, down his pale arms. He held Steve’s hands like secrets. “We keep very detailed records. We lack Midgard’s surfeit of Doombots, but we have archives and villains aplenty to satisfy your need for deeds of scholarship and honor.” 

Steve loved this Thor – returning to his gentle teasing from a dark place. It was easy to miss this Thor, in favor of the shouting and quaffing, the back-slapping and broken glass. In truth, Steve loved that side of Thor, too, even if he had a worrying tendency to swing Bruce around the room. But it was the teasing that was not only teasing that made his heart ache. He shook his head, gently. “I think this world still needs me.” 

“And if it didn’t?” Thor pressed. His hands clenched and he fought to gentle them. Steven’s hands were so fragile now, the joints so brittle. “If another world did?” 

“The world never stops needing, Thor.” 

“None of the Nine Realms do. You could serve anywhere, any way you chose, whatever powers you possessed.” 

“You’re suggesting I put in for a transfer to Asgard?” 

“I would throw you over my shoulder again if I thought I could take you and keep you there, my heart.” A prince did not beg, but his voice was low and urgent. 

Steve tried to think of something to say.  He looked down at the broad hands that cradled his own and stayed silent. Duty and desire pulled in different directions, as they always did. 

Mercy and the patience of years won out and perhaps they would win out again, someday. Thor pulled Steven onto his chest, arching an eyebrow at the resulting indignant squawk.

“Ah, but I will not resort to kidnapping, even though I have a bag just the size of you.” He laid one wide hand on Steven’s slim back with its beautiful, strange bend in the beloved spine. “After taking you to bed like this, I know your stubbornness has naught to do with your size. You would, as you say, bite like a weasel and escape across the Bifrost, gaining passage by tricking even all-seeing Heimdall with your damnable cleverness. Taking my heart with you.” 

Steve smiled. “You’d give chase,” he said softly, playing along. 

“Most ardently. For as long as you ran. For an eternity.” 

The kiss, when it came, was ardent too. 

 

* * *

 

 

Lips so lush they made him ache brushed his ear, forbidding sleep. “This is where I serve. Not forever, but for now.” 

“And I as well.” 

“Then it’s not so bad.” Steven’s sincerity shamed him. “Is it?’ 

“Not at all,” Thor replied. “Your abduction can be postponed. More planning is needed.” 

“That seems fair,” Steven said. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, consider [reblogging it on Tumblr!](https://tolarianfic.tumblr.com/post/179978823304/cap-in-hand-thundershield-fic)
> 
> Content Notes:  
> Many short jokes, via Tony  
> Many tall jokes, via Tony  
> Tony invades Steve's personal space and half-jokingly hits on him  
> Consensual kissing  
> Consensual neck biting  
> Consensual oral sex  
> Steve is similar to his pre-serum self for the night, so there's a big of a size difference thing going on
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are deeply appreciated. There's now a sequel in the works! Bucky shows up and that goes about as well as you would expect.
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
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>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * "<3" as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
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